In week 17 we got a picture of a young man named Mike. We were told that he had just received some news that would change his life. We could decide if that news was good or bad.
When I started writing about Mike I found it easier to get into the mind of his best friend so I decided to tell the story from Quinn's vantage point.
This story is the second of three vignettes surrounding the life and death of Marcia Mayville.
troika
Mike squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists. He felt his cell phone drop out of his hand as his entire body began to shake.
“Mike, you OK man?” Quinn looked up from his laptop but Mike stayed silent. He looked over at his friend as if trying to respond but even as he tried to will his mouth to speak the words did not come.
“Mike…” Quinn stood up slowly and took a cautious step towards forward. “What is it man? What did they say?”
“It’s Marcie…” he lowered himself down into a nearby chair and let his head fall into his hands.
Quinn closed his laptop and went to the kitchen to get some water. As he filled the glass he felt helpless and confused. Getting a glass of water in a situation like this was something his mother would do and in the absence of another strategy it seemed like a logical step.
He brought the glass into the living room, laid it down on the table beside Mike and sat down on the coffee table facing his oldest friend. They had been inseparable since they were five years old and there was nothing Mike could say that would shock him or drive him away.
“What did she do this time? Shit, is she in rehab again? That fuckin’ industry is killing her.” As he thought about the last few years he felt the anger rise in his belly.
Marcie Mae was Mike’s twin. As an only child Quinn was often jealous of that bond that his best friend shared with his sister but the pair had always included him in their schemes. Almost every fond memory from Quinn’s childhood involved the three of them riding around their small town on bicycles or tearing around the backwoods playing explorer. Marcie always dreamed of finding something bigger… something more.
When she turned eighteen she picked up and left in order to follow her dreams. Everyone in town seemed shocked but Mike and Quinn had seen it coming for years. And now, little Marcie Mae had made good on her dreams: she was a star with all of the fame and the heartache that came with it.
Mike had always been proud of her. Hell, he and Quinn sat in the front row for every community theatre production and they took it upon themselves so start the standing ovation each time Marcie had a curtain call. They collected movie posters, magazine articles and memorabilia from each of her shows but Quinn also knew that Mike had lost countless hours of sleep worrying about his other half. First it was the drinking, then the disastrous relationship with the rock star and finally the stint in rehab.
Mike and Quinn had been hopeful at first and travelled to L.A. to greet her when she was released from the thirty-day program. She looked like herself again and Quinn could not decide if he was happier to see her or the look of joy and relief that had returned to his best friend’s face. On her first day home they rented a car and the three of them drove around Hollywood following a beat-up map of the stars’ homes. For a few hours Quinn felt like a kid playing explorer again with his two best friends.
“Mike… talk to me man. What happened?”
“She’s dead…” Mike’s voice was so quiet Quinn barely heard the words. He wanted to ask him to repeat it but he knew that uttering it even once had ripped his heart out.
“She tripped and hit her head. My mom wanted to tell me before we heard it on the news.”
Quinn felt the air leave his lungs but could not summon the strength to draw in another breathe. For a moment the world stood still.
Mike stood up suddenly and turned on the television before Quinn could stop him. As the screen flickered a picture of Marcie Mae filled the screen. Quinn tried to grab the remote from his hand but Mike jerked away transfixed by the image and the caption. “Marcia Mayville: Dead at 28 years of age”
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
week 11: Marcia Mayville
We had a choice in week 11 to revisit a previous character or to work with the following prompt.
Name: Marcia Mayville
Profession: Actress
Age: recently deceased.
Opening line: “I’d like to dispel a few myths about death. The first being that it is not the end. Not that I am any great expert. I’ve only been dead a week.”
I was at a loss for five days. Lisa had not yet told me her story and none of my other characters seemed all that keen to tell me more about themselves. Marcia was also pretty quiet until Friday night when I had a very clear picture of her as a young actress watching the dailies on set. The rest of the story came together as I wrote it.
Marcia will be a secondary character in two more stories (again I will move out of the chronological order and post the Marcia stories together).
Enjoy!
the dailies
I’d like to dispel a few myths about death. The first being that it is not the end. Not that I am any great expert. I’ve only been dead a week and I am not yet sure where I am. I seem to be in a holding pattern waiting to move to the next phase but I am not scared. Rather I feel a sense of excitement like I am waiting to embark on a huge adventure.
Last week when my head hit the cold, hard cement I knew immediately that my time on earth was over. A tremendous explosion rocked me to my very core and suddenly I was free of my body, able to witness the action like a movie-goer watching a scene from my latest movie.
When my agent arrived an hour later to find my empty corpse floating in the swimming pool chaos ensued. Firefighters and ambulance attendants pulled me from the water trying to breathe life back into my lungs. My loyal assistant sat on the ground huddled in a ball and sobbing quietly, ignored by the photographers snapping photos over the fence and by my agent who was cursing his cell phone battery for dying on the most important day of his career.
With my body empty and nothing left to see my spirit simply floated away and a week later I am still here – hovering in the in-between.
I can still see glimpses of what I have left behind. The director who never returned my telephone calls started working the talk-show circuit telling the world that he was devastated by my passing – by a career cut short and talent never realized. The man who walked out on me and broke my heart now cries crocodile tears for the cameras bemoaning the love he has lost. Magazines that criticized me as a hack with no fashion sense now feature my face on their front covers trying to capitalize on my death to garner subscriptions. Celebrity bloggers wait with baited-breath for news of a failed tox-screen to titillate their followers.
In life I was an up-and-coming character actress. In death I am a full-blown super-star. Tripping on a pool noodle and cracking my skull was the best thing that ever happened to my career.
Before the accident I was known in the industry for being a serious actress. I arrived early on days when I was filming and I always knew my lines when I showed up on set. I never missed a screening of the “dailies” when the director the reviewed raw footage shot the day before to see where changes could be made. I was a rarity but I learned a lot from the shots of other actors who shared my scenes trying to understand their reactions to my lines, the development of supporting characters in the same plot.
It is ironic that the after-life I now enjoy is much like the dailies. As I wait to see where my spirit will end up I review scenes from the present and my past. I can observe how other characters in my life have been affected by my actions and choices.
I have not been allowed to choose the reels I have been shown – rather they pop up in front of me at random. I have been able to watch the images of my parents cry tears of joy when I came into the world 28 years ago juxtaposed with my mother’s sorrow when she was told of my passing. I have seen my father’s worry as the Hollywood-machine cast his baby girl as a down-and-out drug addict and his pride when the industry recognized me with an award for that same role. I have been thrilled to see the joy I brought my family as they celebrated my accomplishments and I have cringed to see their shame when the media blasted photos of a drunken fight with my ex on an L.A. street corner.
I always expected that my life would flash before my eyes as I travelled from one world to the other. What has surprised me is that I am not the star of that production: the truly compelling parts were the reactions to my drama.
Name: Marcia Mayville
Profession: Actress
Age: recently deceased.
Opening line: “I’d like to dispel a few myths about death. The first being that it is not the end. Not that I am any great expert. I’ve only been dead a week.”
I was at a loss for five days. Lisa had not yet told me her story and none of my other characters seemed all that keen to tell me more about themselves. Marcia was also pretty quiet until Friday night when I had a very clear picture of her as a young actress watching the dailies on set. The rest of the story came together as I wrote it.
Marcia will be a secondary character in two more stories (again I will move out of the chronological order and post the Marcia stories together).
Enjoy!
the dailies
I’d like to dispel a few myths about death. The first being that it is not the end. Not that I am any great expert. I’ve only been dead a week and I am not yet sure where I am. I seem to be in a holding pattern waiting to move to the next phase but I am not scared. Rather I feel a sense of excitement like I am waiting to embark on a huge adventure.
Last week when my head hit the cold, hard cement I knew immediately that my time on earth was over. A tremendous explosion rocked me to my very core and suddenly I was free of my body, able to witness the action like a movie-goer watching a scene from my latest movie.
When my agent arrived an hour later to find my empty corpse floating in the swimming pool chaos ensued. Firefighters and ambulance attendants pulled me from the water trying to breathe life back into my lungs. My loyal assistant sat on the ground huddled in a ball and sobbing quietly, ignored by the photographers snapping photos over the fence and by my agent who was cursing his cell phone battery for dying on the most important day of his career.
With my body empty and nothing left to see my spirit simply floated away and a week later I am still here – hovering in the in-between.
I can still see glimpses of what I have left behind. The director who never returned my telephone calls started working the talk-show circuit telling the world that he was devastated by my passing – by a career cut short and talent never realized. The man who walked out on me and broke my heart now cries crocodile tears for the cameras bemoaning the love he has lost. Magazines that criticized me as a hack with no fashion sense now feature my face on their front covers trying to capitalize on my death to garner subscriptions. Celebrity bloggers wait with baited-breath for news of a failed tox-screen to titillate their followers.
In life I was an up-and-coming character actress. In death I am a full-blown super-star. Tripping on a pool noodle and cracking my skull was the best thing that ever happened to my career.
Before the accident I was known in the industry for being a serious actress. I arrived early on days when I was filming and I always knew my lines when I showed up on set. I never missed a screening of the “dailies” when the director the reviewed raw footage shot the day before to see where changes could be made. I was a rarity but I learned a lot from the shots of other actors who shared my scenes trying to understand their reactions to my lines, the development of supporting characters in the same plot.
It is ironic that the after-life I now enjoy is much like the dailies. As I wait to see where my spirit will end up I review scenes from the present and my past. I can observe how other characters in my life have been affected by my actions and choices.
I have not been allowed to choose the reels I have been shown – rather they pop up in front of me at random. I have been able to watch the images of my parents cry tears of joy when I came into the world 28 years ago juxtaposed with my mother’s sorrow when she was told of my passing. I have seen my father’s worry as the Hollywood-machine cast his baby girl as a down-and-out drug addict and his pride when the industry recognized me with an award for that same role. I have been thrilled to see the joy I brought my family as they celebrated my accomplishments and I have cringed to see their shame when the media blasted photos of a drunken fight with my ex on an L.A. street corner.
I always expected that my life would flash before my eyes as I travelled from one world to the other. What has surprised me is that I am not the star of that production: the truly compelling parts were the reactions to my drama.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Week 10: Spring Sale at the Stitch and Bitch
So, the Lisa tales are done --for now. This week I started to work on her full story so there is definitely more to come!
In Week 10, we were asked to go back to re-visit a past character and tell a follow-up story with a spring theme. I decided to go back and check on Hammond. Hammond, a divorced mailman with a secret crochet hobby, was our first writing prompt. (read his story here) This story is one of my favorites and almost wrote itself once I sat down at the keyboard. Some weeks I really struggle with the writing prompt but Hammond has always been very co-operative when I decide to tell his story.
spring sale at the stitch and bitch
“Let me get that…”
Hammond rushed forward to hold open the door and bowed from the waist with flourish gesturing for the small, white-haired woman to go ahead and enter the store.
The older lady smiled and thanked him with a giggle. “Oh Hammond, you are such a gentleman.”
“Thanks Mrs. Grant. Glad to see you out today. There are lots of big sales: time to stock up!”
Hammond took a deep breath as he entered the store and let the door close behind him. The Stitch and Bitch was his favourite shop and it had become a haven for him after his divorce. As the only male patron who came in regularly, the older ladies had all wanted to take him under their wing which made him somewhat of a celebrity.
His crochet work was no longer an embarrassment. In fact, the ladies at the store found it charming and each week he would bring in a stack of dishcloths that he had made to pass out to his new friends. When he arrived they would give him a little hug and ask him about his health and his job. They all commented on how he looked too thin and many of the women had pulled him aside to try to set him up with a daughter, grand-daughter or niece that they were just sure he would love.
“A man can’t live too long on his own,” they had told him. Or “look at you, you are fading away. You need a woman at home to make you a proper meal.” At first he had made excuses but eventually he caved in to their wheedling and started to go on some blind dates. For the first time in a long time he had felt that he may have something to offer a wife.
The store was incredibly busy as he entered and all of his friends were milling around the bins of wool for the Annual Spring Sale. Knitting and crocheting were most popular in the winter and as the warm weather arrived the older wool stock was put on clearance to make room for lighter-weight cotton fibres.
Hammond was working on some new crochet projects but he still wanted to get some of the sturdy polyester yarn that he used to make dishcloths. The ladies at the store loved them after all and they looked forward to seeing him arrive with a few new ones each week.
As he headed to the back of the store he heard his name several times and he stopped to hug or shake hands with a few of the ladies along the way.
“Hi Mrs. Thompson! Thanks for the baking you left me last week. No one makes brownies like you do.”
“Mrs. Phelps, I am glad you liked the dishcloth I made you. Yes, I have a few left. I will bring one in for you next Saturday.”
“Mrs. Carnegie, what in the world are you making with all of that grey wool? I just saw a picture of your grandson last week, he can’t possibly be that big yet!”
“Suzette has my special order arrived? Super, I will be over in a minute to get it I just have to pick up a few things first.”
Finally he found his way to the back of the small boutique and selected a few balls of the sturdy fibre he had been working with for so many years.
“Hammond?”
He looked up slowly. The voice was so familiar yet so surprising…. Madeline.
There she was. His ex-wife was standing across from him at The Stitch and Bitch. He worried for a quick moment knowing that the legions of old ladies around him would not be kind to the woman who had broken ‘their Hammond’s’ heart.
“Wow… Madeline…. what are you doing here?”
She chuckled quietly. “I took up crocheting after our divorce. It turns out that I was right about one thing. No one makes a better dishcloth than you do. “
Too surprised to respond he just nodded his head and continued to stare at her.
“You look well,” she continued after an awkward pause. “You look …happy.”
“I am. I really am. The ladies here are wonderful and they spoil me with home-cooked meals and all the baking I can handle.”
She nodded at the four small balls of yarn in his arms. “I thought you would have needed more than that. It’s a sale. You should stock up!”
He looked down nervously at the beige yarn he had selected. “I don’t do as many dishrags as I used to. I have taken on a new project lately so I don’t have as much time.”
As if on cue Suzette held up two balls of baby pink cotton and called over to him. “Hammond it’s here and this cotton is even softer than we had imagined.”
The color drained from Madeline’s face as she stared at him.
“I’m making a layette – well three so far. My wife and I are having a baby girl. Suzette is the baby’s grandma.”
Madeline stammered a goodbye and congratulations as an excited Hammond rushed over to the counter look at the pink cotton with a pack of twittering old ladies. It appeared that Hammond now had a new life and she was the one who was left behind.
Once again, I encourage you to visit The Character Project and browse through the stories that have been posted. New entries are posted Sundays at 2:30 and I always look forward to reading what the other writers have come up with.
In Week 10, we were asked to go back to re-visit a past character and tell a follow-up story with a spring theme. I decided to go back and check on Hammond. Hammond, a divorced mailman with a secret crochet hobby, was our first writing prompt. (read his story here) This story is one of my favorites and almost wrote itself once I sat down at the keyboard. Some weeks I really struggle with the writing prompt but Hammond has always been very co-operative when I decide to tell his story.
spring sale at the stitch and bitch
“Let me get that…”
Hammond rushed forward to hold open the door and bowed from the waist with flourish gesturing for the small, white-haired woman to go ahead and enter the store.
The older lady smiled and thanked him with a giggle. “Oh Hammond, you are such a gentleman.”
“Thanks Mrs. Grant. Glad to see you out today. There are lots of big sales: time to stock up!”
Hammond took a deep breath as he entered the store and let the door close behind him. The Stitch and Bitch was his favourite shop and it had become a haven for him after his divorce. As the only male patron who came in regularly, the older ladies had all wanted to take him under their wing which made him somewhat of a celebrity.
His crochet work was no longer an embarrassment. In fact, the ladies at the store found it charming and each week he would bring in a stack of dishcloths that he had made to pass out to his new friends. When he arrived they would give him a little hug and ask him about his health and his job. They all commented on how he looked too thin and many of the women had pulled him aside to try to set him up with a daughter, grand-daughter or niece that they were just sure he would love.
“A man can’t live too long on his own,” they had told him. Or “look at you, you are fading away. You need a woman at home to make you a proper meal.” At first he had made excuses but eventually he caved in to their wheedling and started to go on some blind dates. For the first time in a long time he had felt that he may have something to offer a wife.
The store was incredibly busy as he entered and all of his friends were milling around the bins of wool for the Annual Spring Sale. Knitting and crocheting were most popular in the winter and as the warm weather arrived the older wool stock was put on clearance to make room for lighter-weight cotton fibres.
Hammond was working on some new crochet projects but he still wanted to get some of the sturdy polyester yarn that he used to make dishcloths. The ladies at the store loved them after all and they looked forward to seeing him arrive with a few new ones each week.
As he headed to the back of the store he heard his name several times and he stopped to hug or shake hands with a few of the ladies along the way.
“Hi Mrs. Thompson! Thanks for the baking you left me last week. No one makes brownies like you do.”
“Mrs. Phelps, I am glad you liked the dishcloth I made you. Yes, I have a few left. I will bring one in for you next Saturday.”
“Mrs. Carnegie, what in the world are you making with all of that grey wool? I just saw a picture of your grandson last week, he can’t possibly be that big yet!”
“Suzette has my special order arrived? Super, I will be over in a minute to get it I just have to pick up a few things first.”
Finally he found his way to the back of the small boutique and selected a few balls of the sturdy fibre he had been working with for so many years.
“Hammond?”
He looked up slowly. The voice was so familiar yet so surprising…. Madeline.
There she was. His ex-wife was standing across from him at The Stitch and Bitch. He worried for a quick moment knowing that the legions of old ladies around him would not be kind to the woman who had broken ‘their Hammond’s’ heart.
“Wow… Madeline…. what are you doing here?”
She chuckled quietly. “I took up crocheting after our divorce. It turns out that I was right about one thing. No one makes a better dishcloth than you do. “
Too surprised to respond he just nodded his head and continued to stare at her.
“You look well,” she continued after an awkward pause. “You look …happy.”
“I am. I really am. The ladies here are wonderful and they spoil me with home-cooked meals and all the baking I can handle.”
She nodded at the four small balls of yarn in his arms. “I thought you would have needed more than that. It’s a sale. You should stock up!”
He looked down nervously at the beige yarn he had selected. “I don’t do as many dishrags as I used to. I have taken on a new project lately so I don’t have as much time.”
As if on cue Suzette held up two balls of baby pink cotton and called over to him. “Hammond it’s here and this cotton is even softer than we had imagined.”
The color drained from Madeline’s face as she stared at him.
“I’m making a layette – well three so far. My wife and I are having a baby girl. Suzette is the baby’s grandma.”
Madeline stammered a goodbye and congratulations as an excited Hammond rushed over to the counter look at the pink cotton with a pack of twittering old ladies. It appeared that Hammond now had a new life and she was the one who was left behind.
Once again, I encourage you to visit The Character Project and browse through the stories that have been posted. New entries are posted Sundays at 2:30 and I always look forward to reading what the other writers have come up with.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Week 15: The Elevator
In week 15 we were asked to take two characters that we had created over the past weeks and have them meet in an elevator which was stuck between floors. Since Lisa was still spinning around in my head she was my first choice.
The second character took some time to appear. In the end Margaret stepped onto the elevator and the story moved from there. Margaret has appeared twice so far. She first showed up in a nursing room in spiders, sex and the modern senior and then a few weeks later Alfred told his grandson about 'Maggie' who was his first love.
I wondered initially what these two ladies had in common but they surprised me.
a conversation between floors
“Shoot, I have to get this,” Jason looked apologetically at Lisa as she hit the up button on the elevator. He tried to juggle his briefcase and reach for the cell phone in his pocket without spilling his unopened coffee cup.
With a sigh Lisa reached over and grabbed the hot cup to give Jason a free hand. “Look, we are going to be late. I’ll go up ahead to the office. You take your call and meet me up in suite 510 when you are done. “
“Thanks,” he said blowing her a kiss as she stepped onto the elevator.
Lisa walked to the back wall of the small car and leaned against the mirror before noticing that she still had both coffee cups. Great, she thought, I am only a few weeks pregnant and I am already getting absent-minded.
“Thirsty?”
Lisa looked over at the older lady standing on the other side of the elevator and smiled. “No, just tired, really tired. I...”
Before she could finish her sentence the two ladies were shaken by a sudden stop of the car and a flash of the lights overhead.
“Are you OK?” Lisa asked the older lady who was clutching elevator rail in an effort to stay balanced.
“Oh, I’m fine dear. How are you?”
“I’m good.” Lisa crouched down to put her purse and the coffee cups on the floor before crossing the elevator to open the emergency panel. It was an old building with a beat up phone and she lifted the receiver to see if she could get help. After a few minutes chatting with the security guard downstairs Lisa hung up the phone and turned to her companion.
“Well, good news and bad news. The bad news is that it will take at least 30 minutes to get someone here to fix the elevator.”
“Oh dear, the good news...?”
“We have two fresh cups of hot coffee. Can I help you down to the floor? We may as well get comfortable.”
The older lady smiled and laughed. “Thank you dear. My name is Margaret and coffee sounds delightful.”
“Hi, Margaret. I’m Lisa.”
The older lady chuckled quietly as she settled down on the floor and stretched out her thin legs. “My daughter Rose is going to be having a fit downstairs. She is always telling me how busy she is and about all of the things that she has to re-arrange just to take me out of the nursing home for a few hours. I almost feel sorry for the repairman who has to listen to her while trying to get the elevator running again.”
“Jason will be on his case too. He had a really busy day planned today and already had to move two meetings just to get here for this appointment, let alone an extra half hour while they spring me from the elevator.”
The two women laughed and toasted with their paper cups.
“So, what brings you out today, Lisa?”
“I’m pregnant,” Lisa said looking down at her cup.
“I am sensing that may not be the best news,” Margaret said quietly. “I don’t mean to pry but I am a stranger on an elevator and completely impartial. Who better to tell your secrets too? Plus, I have been around the block a few times myself.”
Lisa looked up with a grin. “I think I’m more shocked than anything. Jason, the baby’s father, is thrilled. I wasn’t planning to have a baby for a few more years and now I feel like I am in a run-away cart that is heading downhill and picking up speed. Everything is out of control.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I’ll get married I guess,” Lisa said with a shrug. “Jason is a nice guy and he’ll be a great dad. He has been wanting to get married for a while now and I’ve been stalling. My mom will be thrilled to see me married to a successful lawyer but will be horrified that I’m ‘knocked up’.”
Margaret cackled.
“In my day, a woman in your situation was either sent away to live with relatives out of town or wearing an off-white dress at an altar within the week. That’s what happened to me.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes,” Margaret said with a smile. “I was in love with a lovely man named Alfred but his parents hated me. It broke my heart when he moved away to take another job and I poured out my heart to a very nice boy named Peter who had always had a crush on me. “
Lisa smiled as the other woman blushed and she gave her a light poke with her elbow encouraging her to go on with the story.
“Peter was a dear man and was so kind to me. At first I was just trying not to hurt his feelings but before I knew it, I realized that I was a little sweet on him too. We had not known each other for very long but one night we went out and one thing lead to another.... Well, I guess I don’t have to explain it to you.”
Lisa laughed at the teasing. “Did you marry him?”
“Oh yes. Peter was not the sort of man who would have stepped away from his responsibilities. When I told him about the baby he went right to my parents and asked for my hand. We eloped to Niagara Falls the next day and I had Rose seven months later.”
“Were you happy?” Lisa stared at the other woman intently. Margaret saw desperation in her eyes: like a drowning woman watching for a lifeboat.
Margaret reached over and put her hand on Lisa’s knee. “We were married for fifty years and I loved him dearly.”
Lisa took a deep breath and sighed. “I don’t know if I can do it,” she confessed. “I don’t know if I can just get married and live happily ever after.”
“You don’t have to my dear. It’s a different world than when I was in your shoes. Maybe it was easier for me not having to choose. Looking back I don’t know what I would have done if I would have been given an option.” Margaret shook her head. “I don’t envy you.”
Once again the lights flickered and Lisa and Margaret felt the elevator begin to move.
As the doors opened the women looked out to find Rose and Jason waiting frantically on the ground floor and Margaret gave Lisa’s had a squeeze.
***
I have decided that I am going to write Jason and Lisa's full story if only for myself -- and for the four or five of you who have been asking what happens to her. Jon and Margaret will both play important roles in the full story. If you are interested in the larger story add a comment below or on my facebook page and I will be sure to e-mail you a copy when I finally get a reasonable draft together.
The second character took some time to appear. In the end Margaret stepped onto the elevator and the story moved from there. Margaret has appeared twice so far. She first showed up in a nursing room in spiders, sex and the modern senior and then a few weeks later Alfred told his grandson about 'Maggie' who was his first love.
I wondered initially what these two ladies had in common but they surprised me.
a conversation between floors
“Shoot, I have to get this,” Jason looked apologetically at Lisa as she hit the up button on the elevator. He tried to juggle his briefcase and reach for the cell phone in his pocket without spilling his unopened coffee cup.
With a sigh Lisa reached over and grabbed the hot cup to give Jason a free hand. “Look, we are going to be late. I’ll go up ahead to the office. You take your call and meet me up in suite 510 when you are done. “
“Thanks,” he said blowing her a kiss as she stepped onto the elevator.
Lisa walked to the back wall of the small car and leaned against the mirror before noticing that she still had both coffee cups. Great, she thought, I am only a few weeks pregnant and I am already getting absent-minded.
“Thirsty?”
Lisa looked over at the older lady standing on the other side of the elevator and smiled. “No, just tired, really tired. I...”
Before she could finish her sentence the two ladies were shaken by a sudden stop of the car and a flash of the lights overhead.
“Are you OK?” Lisa asked the older lady who was clutching elevator rail in an effort to stay balanced.
“Oh, I’m fine dear. How are you?”
“I’m good.” Lisa crouched down to put her purse and the coffee cups on the floor before crossing the elevator to open the emergency panel. It was an old building with a beat up phone and she lifted the receiver to see if she could get help. After a few minutes chatting with the security guard downstairs Lisa hung up the phone and turned to her companion.
“Well, good news and bad news. The bad news is that it will take at least 30 minutes to get someone here to fix the elevator.”
“Oh dear, the good news...?”
“We have two fresh cups of hot coffee. Can I help you down to the floor? We may as well get comfortable.”
The older lady smiled and laughed. “Thank you dear. My name is Margaret and coffee sounds delightful.”
“Hi, Margaret. I’m Lisa.”
The older lady chuckled quietly as she settled down on the floor and stretched out her thin legs. “My daughter Rose is going to be having a fit downstairs. She is always telling me how busy she is and about all of the things that she has to re-arrange just to take me out of the nursing home for a few hours. I almost feel sorry for the repairman who has to listen to her while trying to get the elevator running again.”
“Jason will be on his case too. He had a really busy day planned today and already had to move two meetings just to get here for this appointment, let alone an extra half hour while they spring me from the elevator.”
The two women laughed and toasted with their paper cups.
“So, what brings you out today, Lisa?”
“I’m pregnant,” Lisa said looking down at her cup.
“I am sensing that may not be the best news,” Margaret said quietly. “I don’t mean to pry but I am a stranger on an elevator and completely impartial. Who better to tell your secrets too? Plus, I have been around the block a few times myself.”
Lisa looked up with a grin. “I think I’m more shocked than anything. Jason, the baby’s father, is thrilled. I wasn’t planning to have a baby for a few more years and now I feel like I am in a run-away cart that is heading downhill and picking up speed. Everything is out of control.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I’ll get married I guess,” Lisa said with a shrug. “Jason is a nice guy and he’ll be a great dad. He has been wanting to get married for a while now and I’ve been stalling. My mom will be thrilled to see me married to a successful lawyer but will be horrified that I’m ‘knocked up’.”
Margaret cackled.
“In my day, a woman in your situation was either sent away to live with relatives out of town or wearing an off-white dress at an altar within the week. That’s what happened to me.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes,” Margaret said with a smile. “I was in love with a lovely man named Alfred but his parents hated me. It broke my heart when he moved away to take another job and I poured out my heart to a very nice boy named Peter who had always had a crush on me. “
Lisa smiled as the other woman blushed and she gave her a light poke with her elbow encouraging her to go on with the story.
“Peter was a dear man and was so kind to me. At first I was just trying not to hurt his feelings but before I knew it, I realized that I was a little sweet on him too. We had not known each other for very long but one night we went out and one thing lead to another.... Well, I guess I don’t have to explain it to you.”
Lisa laughed at the teasing. “Did you marry him?”
“Oh yes. Peter was not the sort of man who would have stepped away from his responsibilities. When I told him about the baby he went right to my parents and asked for my hand. We eloped to Niagara Falls the next day and I had Rose seven months later.”
“Were you happy?” Lisa stared at the other woman intently. Margaret saw desperation in her eyes: like a drowning woman watching for a lifeboat.
Margaret reached over and put her hand on Lisa’s knee. “We were married for fifty years and I loved him dearly.”
Lisa took a deep breath and sighed. “I don’t know if I can do it,” she confessed. “I don’t know if I can just get married and live happily ever after.”
“You don’t have to my dear. It’s a different world than when I was in your shoes. Maybe it was easier for me not having to choose. Looking back I don’t know what I would have done if I would have been given an option.” Margaret shook her head. “I don’t envy you.”
Once again the lights flickered and Lisa and Margaret felt the elevator begin to move.
As the doors opened the women looked out to find Rose and Jason waiting frantically on the ground floor and Margaret gave Lisa’s had a squeeze.
***
I have decided that I am going to write Jason and Lisa's full story if only for myself -- and for the four or five of you who have been asking what happens to her. Jon and Margaret will both play important roles in the full story. If you are interested in the larger story add a comment below or on my facebook page and I will be sure to e-mail you a copy when I finally get a reasonable draft together.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Week 13: Lisa and Jon
Originally I had planned to post these fictional stories in the order in which I submitted them but a number of you liked Lisa last week so I am going to change up the order a bit.
Last week we met Lisa sitting on her bathroom floor waiting for the results of her pregnancy test. This week's story goes back in time -- before she and Jason got together -- so you can get to know her a little bit better.
Here is the prompt that we had to work from:
Name: Jon
For inspiration choose two or more from the following: college student, laptop, library, misplaced book, unpaid phone bill.
First line: Her laughter broke the silence.
Her laughter broke the silence and attracted angry stares from students at surrounding tables who had crowded the library to study for finals.
Jon looked up from his textbook and watched Lisa as she leafed through the papers in front of her.
“Something funny?”
“No, that was hysteria.” Lisa lifted the top page off the pile and waved it for him to see.
“This is my phone bill. I owe $300 and I am $150 past due.” She continued to rifle through the pile. “This is my electric bill: $285 owing. This is my credit card bill: $600 owing. At this point I owe so much money, to so many people, that each new bill I open is almost funny. What’s one more? Maybe I’ll just burn the bills to keep warm and let them cut off my heat to save cash.”
She folded her arms over the pile in front of her and lay down her head looking exasperated.
Jon watched her take a deep breath and exhale with a sigh before reaching out to ruffle her short brown hair. “If you want I can give you a few of my shifts at the cafe if that will help to make ends meet.”
She lifted her head and reached out to grab his hand. “You are so sweet but I know that you need the money as much as I do. Your tuition bill is coming due soon and you can’t afford to be giving up shifts or tip money.”
“What about your tuition bill? I hope you took my advice and put some money aside from each cheque to cover tuition,” he said remembering the long talk they had about finances during her last money crisis when he helped her to put together a budget.
Lisa shook her head. “I tried. I really did but when my laptop died last month I had to use that money to buy a new one. You can’t get through pre-law without a computer – not that it does me much good now.”
Jon looked down at her pale hand that he was still holding across the table and gave it a little squeeze. What he wouldn’t give to be able to fix this for her. If only there was a way that he could swoop in, wrap her in his arms and protect her. To tell her that everything was going to be OK.
“You have bad karma,” he said with a teasing smile.
“You’re telling me. I am beginning to believe that I am not destined to be a lawyer.”
“What? You are at the top of our class and you are brilliant. One day you are going to be a partner in a huge firm, raking in cash and this will just be a distant memory.”
She shook her head and pulled her hand back staring at the table. She pushed her hair behind her ears with a nervous fidget deliberately avoiding his intent gaze.
“Leese? What are you planning?”
“I am not going to law school,” she said, the words spilling out quickly. “I spoke with the registrar at the community college yesterday and they can give me credit for some of my pre-law courses towards a diploma as a paralegal. They figure it will only take me six months to finish the program and then I can make some real money to pay these bills.”
Jon sat at the table in a stunned silence.
“Jon, say something…. I’ll go back to law school one day. I just can’t do it now; I can’t keep living with this stress.”
“Lisa, why don’t you move in with me? My place is small but there is room enough for a roommate and splitting the rent would be good for us both.”
“Jon, you are my best friend and I already owe you so much. You got me a job at the cafe. You escorted me to the wedding-from-hell when my mom got married. You don’t need me to keep looking after me. Your family doesn’t have money either and I know how hard you are working now just to keep your head above water.”
“This plan is ridiculous.” He took a deep breath trying to control his rising frustration.
“Lisa, you are the best in the program. You can’t become a paralegal while some idiot like Jason Randall just coasts along. He’ll graduate in the middle of the pack and walk into some cushy job just because his family owns the top law firm in town.”
“Jon, life sucks. How did you get though pre-law without figuring it out before? Besides, Jason isn’t a bad guy. His family isn’t his fault any more than our families are ours.”
Hearing Lisa defend Jason Randall was the last straw. As he thought about all of the late nights they had spent studying and the evenings that they had worked together at the small cafe on campus he began to get angry at her for not seeing the obvious. How could she be oblivious to the fact that he was in love with her?
He stood up from his chair and grabbed his books. “Well it seems like you have it all figured out then. Maybe Jason can put in a good word for you and get you a job at daddy’s law firm as a paralegal.”
“Jon, wait…”
But he could not bear to turn around and face her. Instead he hurried towards the exit without ever looking back.
Last week we met Lisa sitting on her bathroom floor waiting for the results of her pregnancy test. This week's story goes back in time -- before she and Jason got together -- so you can get to know her a little bit better.
Here is the prompt that we had to work from:
Name: Jon
For inspiration choose two or more from the following: college student, laptop, library, misplaced book, unpaid phone bill.
First line: Her laughter broke the silence.
*********
past due
past due
Her laughter broke the silence and attracted angry stares from students at surrounding tables who had crowded the library to study for finals.
Jon looked up from his textbook and watched Lisa as she leafed through the papers in front of her.
“Something funny?”
“No, that was hysteria.” Lisa lifted the top page off the pile and waved it for him to see.
“This is my phone bill. I owe $300 and I am $150 past due.” She continued to rifle through the pile. “This is my electric bill: $285 owing. This is my credit card bill: $600 owing. At this point I owe so much money, to so many people, that each new bill I open is almost funny. What’s one more? Maybe I’ll just burn the bills to keep warm and let them cut off my heat to save cash.”
She folded her arms over the pile in front of her and lay down her head looking exasperated.
Jon watched her take a deep breath and exhale with a sigh before reaching out to ruffle her short brown hair. “If you want I can give you a few of my shifts at the cafe if that will help to make ends meet.”
She lifted her head and reached out to grab his hand. “You are so sweet but I know that you need the money as much as I do. Your tuition bill is coming due soon and you can’t afford to be giving up shifts or tip money.”
“What about your tuition bill? I hope you took my advice and put some money aside from each cheque to cover tuition,” he said remembering the long talk they had about finances during her last money crisis when he helped her to put together a budget.
Lisa shook her head. “I tried. I really did but when my laptop died last month I had to use that money to buy a new one. You can’t get through pre-law without a computer – not that it does me much good now.”
Jon looked down at her pale hand that he was still holding across the table and gave it a little squeeze. What he wouldn’t give to be able to fix this for her. If only there was a way that he could swoop in, wrap her in his arms and protect her. To tell her that everything was going to be OK.
“You have bad karma,” he said with a teasing smile.
“You’re telling me. I am beginning to believe that I am not destined to be a lawyer.”
“What? You are at the top of our class and you are brilliant. One day you are going to be a partner in a huge firm, raking in cash and this will just be a distant memory.”
She shook her head and pulled her hand back staring at the table. She pushed her hair behind her ears with a nervous fidget deliberately avoiding his intent gaze.
“Leese? What are you planning?”
“I am not going to law school,” she said, the words spilling out quickly. “I spoke with the registrar at the community college yesterday and they can give me credit for some of my pre-law courses towards a diploma as a paralegal. They figure it will only take me six months to finish the program and then I can make some real money to pay these bills.”
Jon sat at the table in a stunned silence.
“Jon, say something…. I’ll go back to law school one day. I just can’t do it now; I can’t keep living with this stress.”
“Lisa, why don’t you move in with me? My place is small but there is room enough for a roommate and splitting the rent would be good for us both.”
“Jon, you are my best friend and I already owe you so much. You got me a job at the cafe. You escorted me to the wedding-from-hell when my mom got married. You don’t need me to keep looking after me. Your family doesn’t have money either and I know how hard you are working now just to keep your head above water.”
“This plan is ridiculous.” He took a deep breath trying to control his rising frustration.
“Lisa, you are the best in the program. You can’t become a paralegal while some idiot like Jason Randall just coasts along. He’ll graduate in the middle of the pack and walk into some cushy job just because his family owns the top law firm in town.”
“Jon, life sucks. How did you get though pre-law without figuring it out before? Besides, Jason isn’t a bad guy. His family isn’t his fault any more than our families are ours.”
Hearing Lisa defend Jason Randall was the last straw. As he thought about all of the late nights they had spent studying and the evenings that they had worked together at the small cafe on campus he began to get angry at her for not seeing the obvious. How could she be oblivious to the fact that he was in love with her?
He stood up from his chair and grabbed his books. “Well it seems like you have it all figured out then. Maybe Jason can put in a good word for you and get you a job at daddy’s law firm as a paralegal.”
“Jon, wait…”
But he could not bear to turn around and face her. Instead he hurried towards the exit without ever looking back.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Week 9: Lisa
In week nine I stepped up to the plate and submitted an idea for a character prompt.
When I came up with the idea I had a totally different story in mind but as I sat down to write a different Lisa emerged. Stranger still, she has stayed with me. In the months that followed Lisa appeared in two more stories and she is still hanging around in the back of my mind. I am not sure what I am going to do with the story -- I may just have to sit down and write the whole tale just to exorcise her!
Character name: Lisa
Age: 26 years old
Scenario: She is sitting on the floor of a small bathroom with a watch and a pregnancy test. Is the result positive or negative? Is she happy about the results?
two minutes…
Lisa slid the cap back on the end of the pregnancy test and placed it gently on the back of the toilet bowl. She handled the stick with the caution that one might expect from someone re-inserting a pin in a live grenade.
Taking two steps back she leaned on the wall behind her and slid down settling herself on the cold black and white tile floor.
Two minutes. In two minutes she would know for sure. Her period was only two days late but her cycle was usually as regular as clockwork. ‘It’s probably stress,’ she had told herself the day before but she broke down and bought the test on the way home from work unable to wait any longer for an answer.
From her spot on the floor she craned her head looking her watch on the counter but it was not there. Crap! She had forgotten it on her bedside table. Well she certainly was not going to go back into the bedroom to get it. She couldn’t risk waking Jason; she just couldn’t deal with him right now. First, she would find out what was going on then she would talk to him about it.
In the meantime she would just count… one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi…
No, that wasn’t going to work either.
Feeling the tension in her shoulders and her neck she let her ear drop down to one shoulder in a gentle stretch. Then she changed sides and took another deep breathe.
What was she going to tell her mother? She was 26 years old and she was still afraid of what her mother was going to say. She could almost hear her now. “Lisa, dear you can’t be pregnant. What am I going to tell the other ladies at the church tea? I already have enough trouble trying to explain why you are not married yet. You have a wonderful man like Jason and still you won’t make a commitment. What on earth are you waiting for?“
Oh God, she couldn’t be pregnant. She considered a desperate prayer. Was there a patron saint for unwed women who may or may not be knocked up by men they no longer loved?
Well if any good came out of this mess it was that it would force her to deal with the Jason situation. If the test came back negative she promised herself that she would finally screw up her courage and tell him how she really felt.
It should be easy. She had practiced the conversation in her mind at least a dozen times over the last month alone. They would sit him down in the living room with a glass of wine and she would just tell him.
Jason, I think you are a lovely man. You are talented and bright and I will always care for you but I just don’t know if I am in love with you anymore. In the scenario she imagined Jason would have tears in his eyes but she knew that would never happen in real life. Men like Jason did not cry over the likes of her. They moved on and found someone new. She was sure that there would be another woman living with him in this very apartment in the space of a year if she ever moved out.
But, that was only one side of the coin. What if that test turned up with a plus sign? If she was pregnant she knew Jason would have a ring on her finger that very day. Men like Jason would do the ‘right thing.’ In fact, he had been trying to discuss marriage and kids for the longest time and she did her damndest to avoid it. Did he really want her or did he simply want the settled-married-man status that the partners of his law firm respected?
A quiet knock on the door startled her. She closed her eyes and sighed.
“Lisa, are you OK… Can I come in, babe?”
“Yeah.”
Jason slowly pushed the door open and his eyes flashed with worry as he saw her sitting on the floor. He followed her gaze to the top of the toilet bowl and grabbed the stick.
As he turned towards her she caught a quick glance of the tears in his eyes as he dropped down in front of her and wrapped her in a tight hug.
“Lisa….”
Without even seeing the test, she knew the answer and she wanted to cry.
***
Yet again I encourage you to check out The Character Project and read some of the fabulous stories that have been posted there!
When I came up with the idea I had a totally different story in mind but as I sat down to write a different Lisa emerged. Stranger still, she has stayed with me. In the months that followed Lisa appeared in two more stories and she is still hanging around in the back of my mind. I am not sure what I am going to do with the story -- I may just have to sit down and write the whole tale just to exorcise her!
Character name: Lisa
Age: 26 years old
Scenario: She is sitting on the floor of a small bathroom with a watch and a pregnancy test. Is the result positive or negative? Is she happy about the results?
two minutes…
Lisa slid the cap back on the end of the pregnancy test and placed it gently on the back of the toilet bowl. She handled the stick with the caution that one might expect from someone re-inserting a pin in a live grenade.
Taking two steps back she leaned on the wall behind her and slid down settling herself on the cold black and white tile floor.
Two minutes. In two minutes she would know for sure. Her period was only two days late but her cycle was usually as regular as clockwork. ‘It’s probably stress,’ she had told herself the day before but she broke down and bought the test on the way home from work unable to wait any longer for an answer.
From her spot on the floor she craned her head looking her watch on the counter but it was not there. Crap! She had forgotten it on her bedside table. Well she certainly was not going to go back into the bedroom to get it. She couldn’t risk waking Jason; she just couldn’t deal with him right now. First, she would find out what was going on then she would talk to him about it.
In the meantime she would just count… one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi…
No, that wasn’t going to work either.
Feeling the tension in her shoulders and her neck she let her ear drop down to one shoulder in a gentle stretch. Then she changed sides and took another deep breathe.
What was she going to tell her mother? She was 26 years old and she was still afraid of what her mother was going to say. She could almost hear her now. “Lisa, dear you can’t be pregnant. What am I going to tell the other ladies at the church tea? I already have enough trouble trying to explain why you are not married yet. You have a wonderful man like Jason and still you won’t make a commitment. What on earth are you waiting for?“
Oh God, she couldn’t be pregnant. She considered a desperate prayer. Was there a patron saint for unwed women who may or may not be knocked up by men they no longer loved?
Well if any good came out of this mess it was that it would force her to deal with the Jason situation. If the test came back negative she promised herself that she would finally screw up her courage and tell him how she really felt.
It should be easy. She had practiced the conversation in her mind at least a dozen times over the last month alone. They would sit him down in the living room with a glass of wine and she would just tell him.
Jason, I think you are a lovely man. You are talented and bright and I will always care for you but I just don’t know if I am in love with you anymore. In the scenario she imagined Jason would have tears in his eyes but she knew that would never happen in real life. Men like Jason did not cry over the likes of her. They moved on and found someone new. She was sure that there would be another woman living with him in this very apartment in the space of a year if she ever moved out.
But, that was only one side of the coin. What if that test turned up with a plus sign? If she was pregnant she knew Jason would have a ring on her finger that very day. Men like Jason would do the ‘right thing.’ In fact, he had been trying to discuss marriage and kids for the longest time and she did her damndest to avoid it. Did he really want her or did he simply want the settled-married-man status that the partners of his law firm respected?
A quiet knock on the door startled her. She closed her eyes and sighed.
“Lisa, are you OK… Can I come in, babe?”
“Yeah.”
Jason slowly pushed the door open and his eyes flashed with worry as he saw her sitting on the floor. He followed her gaze to the top of the toilet bowl and grabbed the stick.
As he turned towards her she caught a quick glance of the tears in his eyes as he dropped down in front of her and wrapped her in a tight hug.
“Lisa….”
Without even seeing the test, she knew the answer and she wanted to cry.
***
Yet again I encourage you to check out The Character Project and read some of the fabulous stories that have been posted there!
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